Score
by Alecto's Muse
Summary: What happens when the XMen decide to play matchmaker for an unwitting Rogue? Romy and other pairings.


Deflower Me

Alecto's Muse

August 14, 2006

What happens when the X-Men decide to play matchmaker for the unwitting Rogue? Romy and other pairings.

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Chapter 1.

"You did what? I'm not sure that was a good idea."

"Oh, what's she going to do about it? Besides, it's for her own good."

I ignore the conversation as I stomp into the kitchen, where Evan, Kitty and Betsy have already gathered for breakfast. I mumble something under my breath that could pass vaguely for a greeting.

"Well, good morning to you too, luv." Betsy sounds uncharacteristically happy considering she's up this early.

"Why does God hate me?" I sigh heavily as I peer into the refrigerator.

Hmmm. Muffins- This has Kitty written all over it- I think I'll pass. Milk. OJ. Day old pizza. Eggs. Bagels. And some sort of vegetable matter. _Which requires the least effort?_

"Still a virgin then?"

My response to Evan's taunting voice is to throw a muffin in the direction of his head without looking up. It connects with a thud. _Hah! Who's laughing now, Spikey?_ I hate to crush the poor girl's dreams of someday becoming a competent cook, but if years of high school Home Ec. hadn't helped, I seriously think all hope is lost.

As I potter over to the table with a glass of milk, Evan rubs his head, muttering something about no-one caring about him. Considering that Betsy is currently chatting to someone on her cellphone, and Kitty is trying to figure out mathematically, why her muffins have a greater tensile strength than steel, I see his point.

Joining the Ignore-Evan-Club, I suggest "Maybe you should add some baking powder, next time."

"Baking powder?" Kitty asks, with an expression that clearly means 'Where on earth would I find such a concoction, err, ingredient?'

The sound of Betsy giggling catches all our attention. "I love you….No, I love you more..."

It's unanimous. _That's just ewwy!_ I think I'm gonna be ill. Evan looks the way I feel. Kitty has a big grin on her face. Well, two out of three ain't bad.

The ding of the microwave announces that my pizza is done. Out of the goodness of my heart, I also grab a few ice cubes for Evan.

Eventually, Betsy's seems to feel the disdain emanating from us, and stops cooing. "Ok…I'll talk to you later darling."

"How's Warren?" I ask dryly.

"Wonderful, as always. You should have seen the restaurant he took me to last night. The food was divine, and obviously fabulously expensive. And afterwards…"

Not unnoticed by Betsy, Evan rolls his eyes, and shifts an ice cube over the barely noticeably bump on the side of his head.

"But as I was saying, luv, did you meet anyone interesting last night?"

"Not even close. And for the record, if you ever trick me into going to a singles party set-up again, I'll rearrange your features so that all you've left of you're modeling career are fond memories."

"No need to be violent." She appears nonplussed as she spreads cream cheese over her bagel with well manicured hands. "I think I've figured out your problem. You're too picky. You're an attractive girl…" She trails off, frowning as she surveys my appearance. I hadn't bothered to clean off my makeup when I got home last night. It had taken all my energy just to take off my clothes before falling into bed.

"Well, not in your current state, but with a little effort, considerable effort, you could be fixed."

_FIXED?_

"There's nothing wrong with being picky." Kitty says.

_Dear sweet wonderful Kitty._ I shot her a grateful look. _Horrible cook, but great human being_.

"Although a makeover is a great idea. Doesn't it sound like fun, Rogue?" She continued excitedly.

_Et tu, brute?_

"I like the way I look, thank you very much. And maybe the pickings wouldn't be as slim if you hadn't already slept with all the gorgeous millionaires I know." I directed the last bit towards Betsy. A bit snarky, I know, but in my defense…she insulted me first. I might feel bad if I wasn't aware of how thick-skinned she is.

"Well, the race is for the swift." She smiled.

I'm surprised Evan has nothing to add, but he seems intent on the contents of his plate. Besides, if anyone understands the need to be true to one's individuality, it would be Evan. It's the philosophy that has always connected us.

The good thing about eating out of a box is you don't have to wash anything afterwards. I put everything away and made up an excuse to run away, I mean...leave the kitchen. It was definitely time to go. The last thing I need is Kitty getting carried away with the idea of a makeover. It's not going to happen. Period.

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"So, that's the plan."

"We need a name for it."

"What?"

"Every self-respecting plan of action has a name."

"…?"

"Ok. _Operation Sex-in-the-City_."

"That's been done."

"_Operation blind date_?"

"You suck at this."

"I don't hear any brilliant ideas from your corner."

"What about _Operation Rogue-Needs-to-Get-Laid-Now_?"

"Too long, and too obvious."

"…"

"How about _Operation Deflower_?"

"Perfect."

"Let phase one begin."


End file.
